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Soma Kokko was born in 1876 in Sendai; her birth name was Hoshi Ryoko. Her family was visited by misfortune early in her life, including the deaths of her father and several brothers as well as a sister’s mental illness; she was something of a brand saved from the burning. After starting high school at the Miyagi Girls’ School (a Christian mission school where she took part in a students’ strike intended to increase the ratio of Japanese language, literature, and history in the Western-heavy curriculum), she transferred to the Ferris Girls’ School in Yokohama and ended up at the more liberal Meiji Girls’ School, where she read Jogaku Zasshi, edited by the school principal, Iwamoto Yoshiharu, and daydreamed of becoming a writer out of her admiration for his wife the translator Wakamatsu Shizuko. “Kokko” or “black light” was a penname given to her in school by Iwamoto, in order “not to sparkle too much.”

After her graduation in 1897, she married Soma Aizo, a silkworm farmer/researcher and a fellow northerner and Christian (one biographer suggests that her sudden marriage to this practical man was impelled in part by seeing all her friends, including her cousin Sasaki Nobuko, marry or fall in love with hapless writers). Their daughter Toshiko, named for Kishida Toshiko, was born the following year. Life with silkworms in a Nagano village was hard, though, and by 1901 Kokko had convinced Aizo to move to Tokyo. He commuted back and forth for his silkworm studies, while she used the money they had saved for Toshiko’s education to buy the Nakamuraya, a bakery situated just outside the University of Tokyo, well positioned to cater to hungry students. Her friends were surprised that the would-be writer had become a businesswoman, but she enjoyed researching better baked goods. The bakery thrived, shortly expanding into larger quarters; particularly popular items included cream buns and waffles, as well as “Kokko-style” Japanese sweets, Russian chocolates, pine-nut castella cake, mooncakes, and so on, the fruits of the Somas’ visits abroad to Harbin and Beijing as well as the refugees and travelers they hired, who had reasonable working hours and wages in accordance with Aizo’s “gentleman’s way of doing business.”

Between the food and Kokko’s personal charm—friends described her as not at all beautiful, but irresistibly attractive—the Nakamuraya became a popular hangout, sometimes labeled a salon, for artists, writers, and theater people (including the actress Matsui Sumako) of the time. Among these was the sculptor Ogiwara Rokuzan, a family friend and early admirer of Kokko, who had been inspired by her to go to Paris and study with Rodin. Discovering that Aizo had a mistress in his hometown, he urged Kokko to divorce her husband and marry him instead, but she refused, indirectly inspiring his statue Woman; he died shortly after completing it.

In 1915, the Somas, who held Pan-Asianist views, offered sanctuary to the fugitive Indian independence activist Rash Behari Bose, who later married Toshiko and taught the Somas how to make real “Indian curry,” which became one of the Nakamuraya’s most famous offerings. They also gave shelter to the Russian poet Vasili Eroshenko for four years (having come to study at a school for the blind, he was rendered stateless by the Russian Revolution; he inspired the addition of borscht to the Nakamuraya menu); when the police eventually barged in to drag him away, Kokko sued the local police chief for home invasion. In addition, she was a sponsor of Tane maku hito [The Seed Planter], Japan’s first proletarian literary magazine.

Kokko died in 1955, a year after her husband, survived by three of their nine children. “Very few people have lived their lives just the way they wanted to like she did,” her son Yasuo said ambiguously. The Nakamuraya is still a thriving enterprise today.

Sources
Tanaka, Shimamoto, Mori 1996, Mori 2014, Nakae, Ishii
https://www.redcircleauthors.com/news-and-views/changing-nations-the-japanese-girl-with-a-book/ (English) Very interesting, wide-ranging article about Kokko and Toshiko (although very much in need of an edit), with good illustrations
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Senuma Kayo was born in 1875 in Gunma, where her father ran a seed nursery; her birth name was Yamada Ikuko. She was raised in the Eastern Orthodox Church; upon her mother Yoka’s death in 1883, burial in the family plot was prohibited on account of her Christianity. Ikuko went to a church-affiliated girls’ school in Tokyo, graduating in 1892 and attempting a career as a writer while teaching at her alma mater.

Given books in Russian by Archbishop Nicholas, whom she had admired since childhood, Ikuko studied the language with Ivan Senuma Kakusaburo, the head of the Orthodox St. Nikolai Cathedral seminary (he had run away from home at sixteen to go into the church and attended seminary in Kiev), and married him in 1897; they were to have six children. After her marriage he introduced her to the writer Ozaki Koyo, who took her on as a disciple (his first female one) and gave her the pen name Kayo, which shares a character with his own pen name.

She became a well-known Russian translator, as the first Japanese woman to translate directly from the Russian. Her translations included works by Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Turgenev, and others, as well as a joint attempt at Anna Karenina with her husband (who was among Tolstoy’s correspondents, although their religious beliefs clashed). Her style is said to have valued elegance in Japanese writing over absolute faithfulness to the source text.

In 1909, frustrated by being shut up in the house, Kayo set off on a trip to Russia and sent back a series of newspaper articles about her visit to Vladivostok. In 1911 she traveled there again, accompanied only by her baby daughter Fumiko if that’s how you read it; I never saw the name 文代子 in my life. Fuyoko? Ayoko?, traveling as far as St. Petersburg on the Siberian Railway. (There was gossip at the time that Fumiko was the daughter of a Russian exchange student ten years Kayo’s junior.) In St. Petersburg she worked as a shop clerk and a Japanese instructor.

Upon her return to Japan in 1912, she became a member of Hiratsuka Raicho’s feminist magazine Seito [Bluestocking], which published her translations of Chekhov (whom she enjoyed for his humor among other reasons) before they were released in book form. She died in 1915 from complications of a seventh pregnancy.
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Yamamuro Kieko was born in 1874 in Iwate, where her family were farmers; her birth name was Sato Kieko. Originally well-to-do, the Sato family had spent more than it had to alleviate the effects of the repeated northern famines and subsequently fallen on hard times. Kieko grew up in this sacrificial atmosphere. While helping with the family silkworms, she studied hard, subscribing to Jogaku Zasshi [Women’s Learning], which excited her with its liberal Christianity.

At eighteen she traveled south to attend the Meiji Girls’ School, where she became a Christian. She graduated in 1895 in the middle of the First Sino-Japanese War, and set out to make herself useful by helping alcoholic ex-servicemen; however, it was hard to find support. At the same time she served as secretary of the Women’s Association for Reforming Customs, taught at a vocational school for working-class girls set up by Shimoda Utako, and did clerical work for Jogaku Zasshi, indicating how busy she liked to keep herself. The impression she left was of a calm, patient, feminine young woman, who would remark gently “Well, none of us is God [we all have our faults].”

It was in this year that a number of Salvation Army representatives came to Japan in order to set up a branch there. To become accepted, they wore Japanese dress and ate Japanese-style, which backfired somewhat, earning them a reputation as “actors from the Japan Village in London,” “that crazy religion” and so on. Kieko happened to have a tutoring job near the Salvation Army ladies’ house, and took it on herself to teach them proper Japanese etiquette so that they would no longer have to make fools of themselves.

There she met Yamamuro Gunpei, who was the Salvation Army’s main Japanese colleague; seeing him at meetings, she came to feel that the Salvation Army was her job in life. Two years older than she, Gunpei was a printworker (traditionally an occupation rife with left-wing organizers and hotheads) who had put himself through an informal university education before joining the Salvation Army. He and Kieko were married in 1899. They held a modest summer wedding at which, according to Kubushiro Ochimi, “the two of them started to sermonize after the ceremony, startling everyone.” Yajima Kajiko also approved of the marriage, saying that the pace of her own Women’s Association for Reforming Customs was too slow for Kieko’s devotion to her work.

They were extremely poor, which did not slow them down at all. Kieko in particular worked to set up a shelter for women escaping from prostitution, which at the time often involved poor rural girls effectively sold into slavery. While would-be ex-prostitutes made up the majority of the women who made use of the safe space, it was also open to women who had tried to throw themselves under trains, upper-class young ladies under the watch of conservators, married women who had been shaved bald by their husbands on suspicion of adultery, and others who were struggling. Not all of them were willing to stay once they had come, but Kieko was patient in her insistence that more education would help them no matter what, and most of them ended up in better situations than they had left (with the help of various donations from benefactors including Tsuda Umeko). She also took practical action to cut off human trafficking before it could start during the great northeastern famine of 1905, working along with the Salvation Army to protect girls from the Northeast from being sold to buy their families food.

Kieko died in 1916, perhaps out of simple overtiredness after a lifetime of hard work, pregnancy and child-raising, and poverty. Her husband Gunpei wrote her posthumous biography, while apparently wondering with unnecessary borrowed modesty “if she was enough of a person to convey to the world.” He survived her by some years; the family grave contains Gunpei, Kieko, his second wife Etsuko, and several of their six children. Among these their son Buho, who followed his parents into the Salvation Army, was named after William Booth and the Quaker George Fox. Their oldest daughter Tamiko, born in 1900, was instrumental along with Hani Motoko’s daughter Setsuko, Miyamoto Yuriko, Sato Ineko and others in founding the Femin Women’s Democracy Club after World War II.

Sources
Mori 1996
https://christianpress.jp/july-12-yamamuro-kieko-anniversary/ (Japanese) Worth a look just for her extremely stubborn-looking photograph
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Tsuneko Gauntlett was born in 1873 in Aichi; her birth name was Yamada Tsune. Her parents Kenzo and Hisa were the children of a doctor and a horsemaster respectively, but had little luck in their own career trying to do business in Tokyo. For a while Tsune was fostered out to an aunt married to a doctor working with Hansen’s disease; she continued to seek advice and support from her aunt and uncle throughout her youth.

At age six she entered the Sakurai Girls’ School. When its first principal, Sakurai Chika, resigned her post in favor of Yajima Kajiko, Tsuneko was prepared to rebel; eventually, however, she became Kajiko’s devoted supporter and remained so all their lives. In 1890 she went to teach English at the Kyoai Girls’ School in Gunma north of Tokyo; among her students there was Okubo (Kubushiro) Ochimi, Kajiko’s niece, who was later to be her colleague in the Women’s Suffrage Association.
It was through the introduction of a British colleague that she met Edward Gauntlett, a missionary and fellow English teacher. He fell first; she was reluctant to accept his proposal for a long time, not sure she was attracted to him and also cognizant of the trouble inherent in marrying a foreigner. He persevered, however, and on the advice of her aunt and uncle as well as Kajiko, they were married in 1898 (Tsuneko’s mother, fiercely opposed, was persuaded to come to the wedding but sat sulking the whole time). Gauntlett was a respectable young Englishman with an extra dose of intellectual curiosity which had brought him to Japan. They shared not only a religion but also an interest in music; Gauntlett was an amateur organist, and Tsuneko had studied the organ and had the family musical ability (her brother became the noted composer Yamada Kôsçak ).

They were married in a Tokyo church. When they went to register their marriage at the local ward office, however, they were turned away: “there is no precedent for such a thing [as international marriage].” At the time, Japanese women taking up with foreign men were still seen as Madame Butterflies at best. Tsuneko applied to every relevant Ministry she could think of to find out the correct procedure, and was told only that nobody had ever done such a thing before, so nobody knew how to do it. In the end, she “ran away” in order to abandon her Japanese citizenship, applying at the same time for British citizenship, which she was eventually granted via a letter from Queen Victoria.

In 1901 the Gauntletts moved to Okayama (where a friendly Zen priest let them set up a pipe organ in the middle of his temple) to teach at high schools there. It was at this point that Tsuneko began to wear Western clothing, and to make Western clothes for her children likewise. Tsuneko’s brother joined them in Okayama for a while, receiving his early training in music from his brother-in-law (who also joined him in introducing table tennis to Japan there). The Gauntletts eventually moved to Kanazawa and then to Yamaguchi before returning to Tokyo in 1916, having gone through various health problems and had six children.

Tsuneko shifted her focus to social activism, working with Yajima Kajiko in the Women’s Association for Reforming Customs (Japan’s branch of the WCTU) for temperance and peace and against prostitution. She traveled overseas numerous times to speak at conferences on these issues. In 1920 she accompanied Kajiko to the West, taking care of her daily needs as well as tutoring her in English, acting as interpreter, and mending her aged kimono when it gave way unexpectedly during a party. She took the chance to travel to her husband’s hometown while in England, where his brothers and stepmother (who was relieved to find that her Japanese daughter-in-law was human and not a monster out of distorted paintings) received her warmly. In 1937 she was named president of the Pan-Pacific Women’s Association.

During the war, Tsuneko and Ted remained in Japan but kept to themselves, effectively under house arrest under the eye of the thought police as one-time citizens of a hostile country, although both had become Japanese nationals by this point (their oldest son Owen sued the Japanese government after the war for forcing him to take Japanese citizenship); they were fortunate enough to survive and not to be imprisoned, however. In 1946 Tsuneko became head of the Women’s Association for Reforming Customs. She died in 1953 at the age of eighty, followed three years later by her husband. Of their six children, two settled in Britain while four remained in Japan; all six worked as teachers at some point.

Sources
Nakae, Shimamoto
https://www.japanjournals.com/feature/72-culture/survivor4/1085-2011-03-21-12-00-10-9917180.html?limit=1 (Japanese) Article with various pictures (click through from pages 1 to 7)
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Yasui Tetsu was born in 1870 to a family of traditional martial artists from Shimosa, northeast of Tokyo. She was educated in Tokyo, living with her grandparents (devout Buddhists), and graduated in 1890 from the Tokyo Women’s Normal School (later Ochanomizu University). Fascinated by what she learned about the Pestalozzi system of education, she began her career as a teacher at her own old elementary school. where she taught for four years, interrupted by a two-year period teaching in Iwate in the far north.

In 1896 she was directed by the government to study education in England; however, her English was not up to par, so she spent a few months living and studying with Tsuda Umeko, eventually departing Japan in early 1897. In England she studied education and psychology at the Cambridge Training College for Women under Elizabeth Hughes, who advised her to be out and about seeing as many schools and households as she could. Tetsu’s admiration for Miss Hughes not only did away with the anti-Western feelings she had been raised with but also gave her a strong interest in Christianity.

She became a Christian shortly after her return to Japan in 1900, when she took up a position as teacher and dormitory mistress at the Women’s Normal School. In 1904 she was once again uprooted by an invitation from the royal family of Siam (Thailand); for three years she served as educational director of the Rajini Girls’ School in Bangkok. Thereafter she spent another year studying ethics, ancient Greek philosophy, and English literature in Wales (perhaps inspired by Miss Hughes, a patriotic Welshwoman) and returned to Japan to teach once again, also founding a women’s journal.

In 1918, Tokyo Woman’s Christian University was founded with Nitobe Inazo as its first president and Tetsu as dean; the following year she joined Nitobe and Goto Shinpei on a fact-finding tour of Europe. (Tetsu’s brother Tsutomu suggested that she was in love with Nitobe at the time; who knows.) Five years later, when Nitobe went to work for the League of Nations, Tetsu succeeded him to become the first Japanese female college president. She continued to live and work in the college until 1940.

During the 1930s, when some of her students and alumnae were arrested for membership in the Japanese Communist Party, she spoke to them with understanding and brought them food and goods in jail (in an era when arrest for “thought crime” was a risk). During the war, she refused governmental demands to cut ties with American and Canadian colleagues and to cease teaching English. She died in the postwar confusion of 1945 at the age of seventy-five.

Sources
Nakae

Incidentally, this is post #52 (not counting the sticky), so this blog has now been running for a year! And we’re not even a quarter of the way through my list. Many thanks for reading along <3
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Noguchi Yuka was born in 1866 in Himeji west of Kobe to Noguchi Iyashi, a mine administrator, and his wife Kuri. She began studying writing and English from preschool days, also getting to know the families of the French mining technicians her father worked with, and sampling foods then unknown in Japan, such as strawberry milk (?) and chocolate. In 1885, she entered the Tokyo Girls’ Normal School (present-day Ochanomizu University), where the post-Restoration westernization was in full swing; she was somewhat shocked to see students dancing with male teachers at a school dance (perhaps in imitation of the Rokumeikan style).

Yuka’s father died in 1886 and her mother two years later; she became a Christian the same year. Graduating high in her class in 1890, she was immediately employed at the Normal School’s affiliated kindergarten. In 1894 she was hired by the newly established kindergarten at the School for Noble Girls. There she worked with and became close to Morishima Miné, who had studied early childhood education for the poor in America and whose experience there was a major influence on Yuka as well. Observing the children of the poor on her way to work with the children of peers, Yuka became determined to work toward their education. She and Miné held a charity concert which produced enough seed money to allow them to open Futaba Kindergarten in 1900.

Yuka held down two jobs for the next quarter-century, working at the School for Noble Girls while also running Futaba, until devoting herself to the latter in 1922. Futaba, run on Froebelian lines, was specifically intended as a school for children from poor families; it also implemented an elementary school program for children not enrolled in regular school (converted in 1922 to an after-school care program when the city took over the elementary school project), a home for single mothers and their children, and a night clinic for working parents.

She retired in 1935, leaving all responsibility for Futaba in the hands of Tokunaga Yuki, who had been involved with the school since encountering it as a fifteen-year-old in 1902. From 1942 to 1947, she lectured on Christianity to Empress Nagako, a former student of hers at the School for Noble Girls.
Yuka died in 1950 at the age of eighty-four; she and Tokunaga Yuki were buried in the same grave.

*Tagging this post with “lgbtq interest” is pure speculation; I would need quite a bit of library research to find out whether Yuka’s working partnerships with Morishima Miné and Tokunaga Yuki could fall under that heading, and even then nothing might come to light. But it seemed to me worth drawing attention to the possibility.

Sources
Nakae
https://childmam.blog/2022/01/19/yuka-noguti/ (Japanese) Short article with photos of Yuka and Miné as well as the current Futaba Kindergarten
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Kitamura Mina was born in 1865 in western Tokyo, the daughter of a well-to-do farmer called Ishizaka Masataka and his wife Yama. Masataka, an influential local politician who was enthusiastic about education, sent his daughter to Yokohama Kyoritsu Girls’ School, where she became a Christian. In 1885 she encountered a friend of her younger brother’s by the name of Kitamura Tokoku; she was twenty, he was seventeen. He had just given up participation in the Freedom and Civil Rights Movement on account of a former friend who urged him to acquire funding for the movement (in particular Oi Kentaro’s attempt to overthrow the Korean regime, in which Fukuda Hideko was also involved) by way of robbery. He and Mina fell in love; in 1888, she broke her engagement to a family friend and married Tokoku.

They had a daughter called Eiko in 1892. Tokoku began to make a name for himself as a poet and essayist, influenced by various Western writers as well as Mina’s Christianity. Among other topics he wrote extensively on love and romance, reflecting his love letters to Mina before their marriage. In 1894 he killed himself.

After some years of missionary and settlement work in Japan, Mina went to the United States in 1899, where she studied at Union Christian College and Defiance College, graduating in 1906. She returned to Japan in 1909 to work in education, teaching English at Toshima Normal School and Shinagawa Girls’ High School. She also published an English translation of her husband’s poems before her death in 1942.

Sources
Nakae
https://books.google.co.jp/books?id=zRlvAAAAQBAJ (English) Includes a short biography of Mina and Tokoku’s marriage and Mina’s life thereafter, as well as some family history.
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Mori Hiroko was born in 1864 in Kyoto, the fifth daughter of Iwakura Tomomi, the leader of the Iwakura Mission, Japan’s post-Restoration attempt to learn more about the West. Her birth name was Tsuneko. She spent ages six and seven fostered out to a farming family, a custom of the nobility intended to offer young children better health than the enclosed atmospheres of the old court could confer. It was just at this time that her father moved the family to Tokyo and left on his Mission (escorting Tsuda Ume and company to the United States, among other tasks). He returned two years later.
In 1881 she married Count Arima Yoritsumu (both were not yet out of their teens), giving birth to a daughter, Teiko, in 1883 and a son, Yoriyasu, in 1884. In 1885 she was divorced and returned to her birth family.

In 1886, she married Mori Arinori, then the Minister of Education. “I was twenty-three and he had just turned forty. … He visited me many times before the marriage was decided, surprising me with his attitude; I had not known there could be such a man. He told me about himself in great detail and persisted in knowing how I felt about what I heard, so that when we were alone together I felt for the first time that his heart was open to me. My father was gone by that time, and my mother’s warning to me [based on her own experience] was that marrying a government minister would not be all wine and roses, that I must prepare myself for any number of troubles to come.”

Mori told her he would leave the family finances to her, which awed Hiroko, who had been given no responsibility in her previous marriage. “I didn’t know a thing at first, I relied on the butler for everything, I resolved at least to begin by learning how to handle figures. When I had worked out the household accounts at the end of the month, I asked [Mori] to look over my calculations, and he said he needn’t bother, he was leaving it all to me. He handed over his salary envelope to me unopened. That was how I learned how much a government minister earned every month: five hundred yen.” They dined on Western food (Kyoto-born Hiroko secretly longed for o-chazuke, but her husband instructed the cook not to permit her to eat it, as he felt Western food was healthier) and played bezique in the evenings.

Because Mori’s first wife’s name had also been Tsuneko, she changed her name to Hiroko. Having left her own children with the Arima family, she found herself stepmother to Mori’s sons Kiyoshi and Suguru, children of another divorced wife, then eleven and nine. “They were good children, clever, they never gave me a hard time. Suguru could be quite naughty, but he was adorable.”

In 1888 she gave birth to a son, Akira. The following year Mori was assassinated, on the day set aside to celebrate the new Meiji Constitution: a young ultranationalist, protesting Mori’s supposed failures of protocol on a visit to Ise Shrine, stabbed him on his own doorstop more or less in front of his wife’s eyes.

In 1904, Hiroko and her stepson Suguru and son Akira became Christians. She died in 1943, briefly reunited before her death with her Arima children and grandchildren as well.

Sources
Shimamoto
http://easthall.blog.jp/archives/16127257.html (Japanese) Photographs of Mori Arinori, both his wives (in order), and their descendants
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Okay, imagine you are seven years old and you’re being shipped off to a country all the way around the world, where everything is different, and you will not be going home or seeing your family again for at least another decade. The only familiar people you have with you are four other (unrelated) girls, two teenagers and two preadolescents. When you get to your destination you will be adopted by a middle-aged couple; you will take up their religion, learn their language so well you forget your own, make friends, and graduate from high school with honors. You will not return to your own country until you’re eighteen, and it will take you painful years there to relearn your birth language. You will be constantly conscious of the responsibility conferred on you by the opportunity you were given when too young to choose for yourself. You will remain close friends with your two closest agemates on the voyage all your lives; seeing how marriage circumscribes their lives, you will be more than happy to remain single. You will be endlessly eager to learn, even as you devote your whole life to education for others, specifically for girls and women. The girls’ school you found will bear your name down into the next century. You will stay in touch with your adopted family for almost thirty years.

I apologize for the second person, but Ume gets to me. The above is pretty much the essence of her life as I understand it. She was born in Tokyo in 1864. Her father Tsuda Sen was an agricultural scientist and a Christian (notable for introducing strawberries and asparagus, among other crops, to Japan), involved in the Hokkaido colonization project for which educated women were required. Along with Ume, the girls chosen to be sent to the US in 1871 were Yoshimasu Ryo and Ueda Tei (both older teenagers who returned to Japan after a short time due to illness), Yamakawa Sutematsu, who was eleven, and Nagai Shige, who was nine. Ume, Sutematsu, and Shige remained close all their lives, even after Sutematsu married the much older Count Oyama and Shige (who later became Japan’s first female piano teacher) the up-and-coming naval officer Uryu Sotokichi. Ume lived in Washington, DC with the librarian Charles Lanman and his wife Adeline until she was eighteen.

Upon her return to Japan, Ume was kept busy relearning the language and customs, as well as taking care of her numerous younger siblings. She assisted with charity bazaars (and sometimes danced) at the Rokumeikan, served as a tutor for Ito Hirobumi’s daughter, and taught English at the School for Noble Girls (working with Shimoda Utako and the French teacher Ishii Fudeko) and the Tokyo Women’s Normal School (now Ochanomizu University), returning to the US briefly to attend Bryn Mawr College from 1889 to 1892. Thereafter she founded her own school (with help from Sutematsu, her adopted sister Alice Bacon, and Shige among others), the Women’s English Institute, now Tsuda University. Run on liberal and progressive grounds, the school began with ten students and had grown to 150 in less than ten years. A strict and inspiring teacher, Ume dedicated much of the rest of her life to administration and fundraising. She died in 1929.

Because Ume’s own voice is too good to miss, I have compiled some selections from her letters to her “American mother,” Adeline Lanman (I hope I’m not breaking copyright) to be found AT LENGTH below.
November 19, 1882
Sutematsu and I awoke this morning and said, “Just think only one more day—only twenty-four hours.” I am wild with joy and can hardly contain myself—next moment I am filled with strange misgivings. If I could only speak my own language, it would be so much easier for me.
December 1882
Japanese food is very nice and it has agreed with me very well indeed. It is strange how natural everything tastes. Oh, if the language would only come back to me as easily! I am bound hand and foot, I am both deaf and dumb. …when there are six or seven ways to say anything and they tell me all, I get in a muddle truly.
…To tell the truth, I do feel already much older than I did—partially because I am considered older here in Japan, and then because I have lived a long time in the weeks spent here, already—such new feelings and experience make the time seem long.
December 17, 1882
Mrs. Lanman, I’m sure you would not believe it of me, but I am quiet, orderly, regular, and punctual.
December 28, 1882
…though I often long to see you all again and be back in America, I would not have it different, for I feel I must be of use, not because I know much, but because I am a Japanese woman with an education.
January 6, 1883
I verily believe it is as hard for me as for a foreigner, and I have no talent for languages. … “O me miserum,” poor me, no one has so hard a time in learning their own tongue, and I do feel so discouraged and have no energy to look at those complicated characters or to learn six different ways to say anything. Now, when I think I have a sentence pat, and say it, is it not discouraging to be told that I must only say that to children and servants, that it would be very rude to anyone else, and that what I should say is some long-winded, intangible, incomprehensible sentence? There are more than eight different ways of saying I and you, alone, not to speak of other variations.
…Sometimes I wonder why we went to America. I don’t believe we can do any good, and the government seems to be indifferent as to our work, and we seem to be forgotten.
January 16, 1883
I would not marry unless I wanted to, no matter if I have to live like a hermit, and nothing would induce me to make a regular Japanese marriage, where anything but love is regarded.
March 27, 1883
Yet hard as many things are, hard as many things will be to a woman in Japan placed as we are in the land of such women, yet, do you know my life is not one to shrink from or draw back? I must live and work and do, and I do never want or expect to leave Japan, to live anywhere else.
June 6, 1883
But I want to have my school, and never marry, though I do not say I shall never do so, because it is so hard, so very hard, to get along alone. Oh, it is so hard to feel yourself as different from others, and be looked on with contempt! If I could only do my own way, and not have everyone think me strange, just because I am not married. But that is one of the trials—and trials have to come.
September 28, 1883
In fact, you would be shocked truly. Shige said, when we were discussing something, I think hair, and we admired [Shige’s husband] Mr. Uriu’s soft locks, “I wish you would give your baby that” before me. Now don’t you think we are losing all our civilization?
October 19, 1883
Japanese standards of beauty and niceness are just the opposite of yours—for instance, these servants were saying “What dreadfully big, high noses foreigners have and such far back eyes, and so staring too, so unwomanly, not demure and drooping, and light hair is so dreadful and fuzzy,” etc. How Japanese make fun of foreign waists—they themselves with their thick girdles make themselves big there, and try and hide and make smooth the front of their bodies, and they think the high bust, the depression below, and the again swelling out at the hip and stomach something dreadful and vulgar, and they hate it. They dislike curly hair so much and any other color than black, and straight at that. They dislike big eyes. They like them bright but shy, drooping, slanting upwards a little, and they adore above all whiteness of skin. It makes no difference in the clearness of complexion, only it must be white, and for that reason, they use so much white powder or wash and make themselves like pictures, and it is not a thing to hide or feel ashamed of—they do it most openly.
December 4, 1883
I follow my own method—no books—but I began with a few nouns of common use. Then I had a sentence like “I have,” then “I have a book, a pen, a chair, etc.,” then “Have I a pen, a book, etc.,” then “Have you, etc.,” then “Have we.” After that such sentences as “What is this,” “This is a book,” “What is that,” “That is, etc.,” then numerals, then “I have one book, two books, etc.,” and then I get up, and get things and show in that way the meaning.
January 4, 1884
You will be sorry if I tell you that Sutematsu never goes to church, and seems to have forgotten her profession. She seems so submissive to Mr. Oyama, that though he would not forbid her going, still as he doesn’t go, she doesn’t venture, especially since Sunday is his day home. I do not have patience with such wifely tameness.
January 9, 1884
I am just reading a translation of a famous Japanese work [probably the Tale of Genji], a story, written by a woman—a luxurious, dreamy, poetical thing, but full of Oriental immorality. …I am also going to read Democracy in America by de Tocqueville, which Mr. Ito lent me.
February 26, 1884
It was written in the papers that Mr. Ito and Mr. Inoue spoke most strongly at court against the custom allowing the Emperor to legally have twelve wives, and begged that such things be done away with. That a protestation arises from these men to such an effect is a great thing, though I think that their own lives might be more perfect in some of these ways.
June 15, 1884
I never would have believed it of these quiet ladies, the most of whom think talking of money, of bargaining, or anything of that kind, is a sort of disgrace and, you know, in Japan these high ladies never attend to money matters or touch a cent of money themselves. Well, they got a good lesson. I suppose they caught it from the few of us who don’t mind.
July 29, 1884
I have been lazing the summer days just as I used to in America, by reading novels, just the trashiest kind, and enjoying them. … I have not inquired for a long time how Necko is, and all her numerous children scattered over the neighborhood. Does Necko still exist, and do you pet her any?
January 25, 1885
They had no idea what Christianity was, having only heard of it now and then. They asked me if it was true what people said, that it was a part of Christians’ worship to stamp daily upon the Emperor’s photograph… . They asked what I believed about future life and I told them, and also that those who believe shall meet again. … I said “Do you think when one dies, that is the end of everything?” and they said “Yes.”
June 13, 1885
My scholars at school are doing nicely. I have two or three that are studying splendidly, and they are very fond of their English. They study it so much, and are so anxious to get on, to the neglect of their Japanese studies, that they have been dubbed by their schoolmates “English-crazy.”
June 15, 1883
I met Mrs. Mori [Arinori] also there, and had quite a little talk with her. What a very homely person she is! Nothing pretty about her, and yet they say Mr. Mori’s marriage was a pure love match, and he is considered a man of the highest morals and very faithful and dedicated to Mrs. Mori. So it is not always beauty in this world, and in rank, too, she was a Miss Nobody, I think. Think of Mrs. Ito [Hirobumi], beautiful as she was, and is, and yet from such a rank that their beauty is their all, and when men tire of that, then it is all up.
July 1, 1886
I think the men dressing in foreign dress is well enough, but the women! and Japanese dress is so nice. They are throwing away the good of their native land together with the evil. The Empress will also begin one of the foreign languages—I don’t know which. I don’t envy whoever teaches her—it will be so much trouble and bother, and one would be afraid to move. All this is Mr. Ito’s doing. I think he is going too far—should like to tell him so, but don’t have any chance to do so at all.
August 1, 1886
I have not had any matrimonial arrangements made for me with anyone lately, and least of all with anyone of any rank, but the Pages you met seem to have decided that it was a count. I have not heard of any count of any kind that was marriageable, or I might have set my cap for him, but unluckily I can’t recall one, nor have I heard the least thing from Father or anyone about it, so your advice to accept him was a little premature, wasn’t it? But the wonder is, how such a story got around. I must ask Mrs. Page about it when I see her next time. I think I had better be an old maid after all, so please don’t talk about “Why don’t you fall in love, etc.”
September 23, 1886
How does the opera The Mikado flourish? Items have appeared in the Japanese papers about it…and the general feeling is quite a sore one. …Just the costumes and manner would not be so much, but to make fun of the government, and to put such absurd things in the mouths of the officials and the Emperor especially when the mass of people are in ignorance of the true state of affairs and believe it to be something like this—why, it is an insult. If people ask you, tell them this, and that it is an insult to everyone, Japanese feel—and to a country as well and reasonably governed as Japan, a farce. Can’t you send me the libretto of it just for fun? The costumes and all are very, very absurd, I hear from Japanese, and I should like to see and read it anyhow to judge of it.
…If I were a man, I think nothing would daunt me if I wanted to do something very much.
October 9, 1886
A few days ago, the Emperor’s only son, the Heir Apparent Prince Haru, came to visit our school. He is still a wee bit of a fellow, being only ten years old. I wonder what he thought of so many rows and rows of girls as there were. The poor little fellow seemed quite bewildered, and I don’t suppose it interested him very much. I fear he won’t amount to very much, from all accounts.
November 28, 1888
(Private) When I received the garters you sent me the other day in the box, those that come from the waist, I thought I would ask you if you wouldn’t some time, when you have a chance, send me one of those bands for ladies to use at certain times. I want one as a model and should like to show the Japanese ladies, as their method is so uncomfortable.
November 1, 1899
Our school has been quite excited over the fact that one of our little pupils, the daughter of Prince Kujo and sister to the Princess I teach is to be engaged to the Crown Prince and the engagement is expected to be announced in a few days. Of course, our school is very proud having been the place where she got her education. The young lady is only sixteen, and quite clever and accomplished.
February 5, 1900
How strange it seems to be writing 1900! I make mistakes all the time, and write eighteen and then have to correct it. It is very strange that we are in another century, is it not?
January 22, 1902
It was only a few days ago I was thinking how useful has been all that miscellaneous reading I did as a child in your library. Much of it has been more useful to me than the schooling I got, and the hard lessons I learnt, especially in the English teaching I am doing lately, when the odd reading gave me so much that has proved useful.
August 21, 1904
We are daily waiting to hear of the fall of Port Arthur. It will be a terrible struggle. I am so sorry they refused to surrender—the fools. No one doubts that the place will be taken, and yet for the empty name of honor, they are willing to sacrifice thousands and thousands of lives on both sides. It is a terrible thing to think of, and when will this false standard of bravery give way and people get to see the truth plainer?
May 23, 1910
Just a line to tell you that our new building is actually finished and paid for, and we are using it. It is such a fine, splendid building, and we are rejoicing greatly over it. The girls and teachers were so glad to go into the fine, clean, bright schoolrooms, so light and airy and pleasant. It is a big, beautiful building and cost nearly seven thousand dollars, which is a very big sum in Japan. It is anywhere, but especially in Japan. I only wish you could see it, for it is so beautiful and convenient and a joy to us, in every way. I feel it a great responsibility to have such a big place here to look after and run.
June 5, 1910
We were very much excited about the Comet and all the girls thought that we might be burnt if we got into its tail. However, nothing has happened. On some of the different nights last week, it shone very brilliantly and we saw its tail a long, long distance.


Sources
Nakae
Yoshiko Furuki et al. ed., The Attic Letters: Ume Tsuda’s Correspondence to Her American Mother, Weatherhill, 1991
https://www.city.kodaira.tokyo.jp.e.fj.hp.transer.com/kurashi/111/111677.html (machine translated, ignore the text, but there are lots of good illustrations)
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[personal profile] nnozomi
Wakamatsu Shizuko was born in 1864 in Aizu, originally named Matsukawa Kashi, to a samurai family on the wrong side of the Meiji Restoration fighting. Like Niijima Yae and Oyama Sutematsu, she experienced the horrific siege of Aizu-Wakamatsu as a child. She was six when her mother died, leaving her alone in a DP camp (her father was fighting in Hokkaido, with Enomoto Tatsu’s husband Takeaki) until she was adopted by Okawa Jinbei, a Yokohama silk merchant (who wanted a child as company for his wife O-Roku, formerly an Aizu prostitute whose freedom Okawa had purchased).

The Okawas, and later Kashi’s birth father upon his return, sent her to Miss Kidder’s School for Girls, later Ferris Seminary, a boarding school run by missionaries. There Kashi was baptized in 1877 and became the school’s first graduate in 1882, giving a speech in English at the ceremony. One of her teachers described her as possessed of “[a] nervous temperament, yet having a masterly self-control that lent a quiet dignity to all her movements. She possessed quick mental activity and vivid emotions, without…offensive forwardness.”

She immediately became a teacher at her alma mater, running English literature and drama clubs alongside her classes and acting as an interpreter when needed. In 1886 she became engaged to Serata Tasuku, a naval officer who possessed all the virtues as far as she and the school were concerned (Christian, cosmopolitan, fluent in English, and very handsome). However, Kashi herself broke off the engagement for reasons that are not clear but may have had to do with her already poor health or with her sense that Serata was out of her star, or with a different man met in a different context.

Likewise in 1886, Kashi began to write essays and short stories for the magazine Jogaku Zasshi (Women’s Education). From this point on, she began to use “Wakamatsu Shizu” or “Shizuko” as a pen name. “Wakamatsu” came from her hometown; “Shizu,” written unusually with the character for “peasant” or “lowly,” may have come from a sense of herself as God’s servant.

Jogaku Zasshi was published by the Christian educator Iwamoto Yoshiharu, whose work Shizuko admired; she transformed his (Japanese) biography of Kimura Toko, the recently deceased founder of the Meiji Girls’ School, into a lengthy English poem. Shizuko and Iwamoto married in 1889. She wrote an English poem called “The Bridal Veil” to mark the occasion, which he published in the magazine thereafter. “…Look close on my heart, see the worst of its shining./It’s not yours to-day for the yesterday’s winning./The past is not mine. I am too proud to borrow./You must grow to new heights if I love you tomorrow./We’re married! O, pray that our love do not fail!/I have wings flattened down, and hid under my veil,/They are subtle as light, you can undo them,/And swift in their flight, you can never pursue them./And spite of all clasping, and spite of all bands,/I can slip like a shadow, a dream, from your hands./…”

She left her teaching job not long after, feeling unable to do it justice due to her failing health. As a translator, she produced Japanese versions of Longfellow, Tennyson, Frances Hodgson Burnett’s “Little Lord Fauntleroy” (which became a bestseller in translation) and Sara Crewe, Dickens, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and others of the time, focusing particularly on children’s literature; some of the lesser-known works, such as those of Adelaide Anne Procter, she rewrote to provide a Japanese setting more familiar to her readers. Her translations were extremely punctilious even when freer in nature, going through multiple drafts. She remarked that “[s]truggling to come up with the most appropriate word in translation is an agonizing process. But once you have found it the joyful satisfaction you feel is like to that of a woman who, rummaging through her dresser drawers, at last comes upon the very kimono collar whose design suits her perfectly.” Her translations were both very popular and critically acclaimed, even by the stringent standards of the male translators of the time.

Shizuko also wrote numerous short stories of her own, focusing on the status of women and their experiences of family life and marriage. In both her translations and her original work, she was a pioneer of genbun itchi, the practice of using a written style which approximated speech rather than an abstracted literary dialect. Somewhere in there, even as her health continued to decline, she also found the time to bear children in 1890, 1891, and 1893 (Kiyoko, Masahito, and Tamiko). From 1894 on she published a series of English essays on social and religious issues in The Japan Evangelist. In 1895, pregnant with a fourth child, she died.

Sources
Ishii, Nakae
Rebecca L. Copeland, Lost Leaves: Women Writers of Meiji Japan (University of Hawai’i Press, 2000)
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[personal profile] nnozomi
Okami Kei, also sometimes known as Keiko or Kyoko, was born in 1859 in Aomori Prefecture; her father Nishida Kohei was a merchant and her mother Miyo a samurai’s daughter. They moved to Tokyo after the Meiji Restoration, where Kei attended Yokohama Kyoritsu Girls’ School and underwent Christian baptism. In 1881 she became an English teacher at Sakurai Girls’ School, run by Sakurai Chika and in later forms by Yajima Kajiko.

She met the well-to-do art teacher Okami Senkichiro at church and married him in 1884. Having become involved, through her husband and the missionary Mary True, in ministering to the poor, Kei recognized the need for medical work and decided to travel overseas for a medical degree (unlike Ogino Ginko or Takahashi Mizuko, she had the financial resources to do so).

Following Senkichiro, who was to study at Michigan Agricultural College, she traveled to the United States in the same year as their marriage, attending the Women’s Medical College of Pennsylvania and receiving her MD there four years later. She thus became the first Japanese woman to hold a medical degree granted overseas. Her classmates at the Medical College included Susan LaFlesche, the first Indigenous woman in the US to hold a medical degree, as well as Anandibai Joshi from India and Sabat (or Tabat) Islambouli from Syria, likewise trailblazers in their countries.

Kei and her husband returned to Japan in 1889, where in August she became the fifth woman registered as a doctor. Hired as the head of gynecology at the Tokyo Jikei Hospital in 1890, she left in 1892, apparently in protest because, although she had been scheduled to guide the Meiji Emperor around the hospital upon an official visit, the Emperor had refused to be seen by a woman doctor (another theory is that the Emperor’s refusal was based on nationalist grounds, given that Kei and her husband were Christians educated abroad). She subsequently opened her own clinic out of her home, as well as teaching at Shoei Girls’ School.

In 1893 she worked with her husband and Mrs. True to open a TB treatment facility (for women patients) and a nursing school. With mainly foreign patients, the hospital ran into financial difficulties and closed in 1906. Kei returned to the Joshi Gakuin, the latterday version of Sakurai Girls’ School, to teach English and hygiene. She died of breast cancer in 1941, five years after her husband’s death. Her daughter Mary (named after Mary Morris, Kei’s Quaker benefactor in the US), an aspiring opera singer, predeceased her; she was survived by her sons Bunta and Seiji.

Sources
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%B2%A1%E8%A6%8B%E4%BA%AC (Japanese)
https://www.medworld.com/articles/meet-the-female-doctors-behind-the-photograph-that-intrigued-millions-around-the-world (English) Includes photographs of Kei and her foreign classmates
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[personal profile] nnozomi
Yamashita Rin was born in 1857 in present-day Ibaraki. Her father was a minor samurai reduced to poverty in the runup to the Meiji Restoration, and the family struggled even more after his death when she was seven. When she was old enough to marry, it was suggested that she wed a local farmer, since that would at least mean enough to eat. Rin, however, had been determined from childhood to study art. In 1872, she ran away to Tokyo, walking all the way, only to be summarily returned home by the relatives she found to stay with. Impressed by her determination, her mother permitted her to return to Tokyo the following year.

There she worked as a maid in the house of the woodblock artist Toyohara Kunichika, living in and copying his paintings as a method of study. Developing an interest in the newly discovered Western painting styles as well, she went to study with the cutting-edge Western-style yōga painter Nakamaru Seijuro. When the (unusually, coeducational) Technical Fine Arts School opened in 1876, employing a number of Italian teachers, she enrolled in the painting department (with fees paid by the former domain lord of her native region) and studied Western-style painting with Antonio Fontanesi.

In 1880 she was given the opportunity to study in Russia, replacing her classmate Varvara Yamamuro Masako; the Russian Orthodox missionary Father Nikolai had seen and liked Masako’s paintings and offered her the spot, but Masako had unthoughtfully gotten married instead, so Rin was selected in her place. Upon Masako’s introduction, she was also baptized by Father Nikolai, choosing Irina as her Russian name. She left Japan on a French ship at the end of 1880 and traveled for fifty days via Hong Kong, Singapore, the Indian Ocean, the Suez Canal, and the Bosporus to arrive in the Black Sea. From the port of Odessa she took the train to Moscow and then [St.] Petersburg, where she studied at the Novodevichy Convent and was taught to paint Russian Orthodox icons. Frustrated by their limitations, she obtained permission to visit the Hermitage Museum as well—but only for a scant three months, as the Convent disapproved of the Italians. The artistic limitations placed on her led to a depression; the diaries she initially kept in detail featured complaints like “icons are monster pictures, I want to paint like Raphael” and then petered out, and she cut her five-year visit down to three years, returning to Japan in 1883.

Though initially disposed to leave the church, she soon returned. Given an atelier in the Orthodox cathedral’s Tokyo seminary for women, she began, after some time, to paint icons and teach Russian there. She remained lifelong friends with Father Nikolai, who encouraged her to import some of the Italianate art style she preferred into her icon work. Her paintings number over 300, not all signed. By 1918, her vision was declining due to cataracts; in addition, the Russian Revolution had reduced the strength of the Orthodox church in Japan. She returned to her hometown, where she lived as a farmer and enjoyed her daily dose of sake. She died in 1939 at the age of 83.

Sources
Nakae
https://www.nippon.com/en/japan-topics/bg900319/ (English) Article quoting the author of a novel based on Rin’s life
https://catalog.obitel-minsk.com/blog/2020/11/irina-yamashita-the-first-japanese-icon-painter (English) Very religious site! which does provide a lot of details and also numerous reproductions of Rin’s works
https://ebiaki.wordpress.com/2015/04/19/%E5%B1%B1%E4%B8%8B%E3%82%8A%E3%82%93/ (Japanese) Article discussing some of Rin’s inner struggles, with photographs of her hometown
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[personal profile] nnozomi
Yokoi Tamako was born in 1855 in Edo to the Kumamoto domain retainer Hara Masatane and his wife. At thirteen, when the Meiji Restoration dismantled the domains, she moved with her family back to Kumamoto in the south. In 1872 she married Yokoi Saheita, who immediately left for the United States, where he had already spent some time, to study politics and law. Left behind, Tamako entered the Kumamoto Western School, founded in part by her husband (and the first public coeducational school in Japan), to study English, Western etiquette, Western sewing, and so on. (Her classmates there included the Christian activists Yokoi (Ebina) Miya, daughter of Yokoi Shonan (Tamako’s uncle-in-law) and his wife Tsuseko, who was Yajima Kajiko’s sister, as well as Tokutomi (Yuasa) Hatsuko, older sister of the opinionated Tokutomi brothers Soho and Roka and daughter of Tsuseko and Kajiko’s sister Hisako (a fourth sister, Junko, was also an educator). Everybody’s related.).

Saheita returned to Japan in 1875 and found a position with the new Meiji government; however, no sooner had the couple moved to Tokyo than he died of tuberculosis, leaving Tamako a widow at 21. She studied various traditional arts, became a Christian, and found employment teaching etiquette and sewing at girls’ schools in Tokyo, near the place of her birth. In 1885 she was employed at the Shin-Sakae Girls’ School, where her relation-by-marriage Yajima Kajiko was the principal. Along with Kajiko, Tamako became involved in the Women’s Association for Reforming Customs, protecting poor women from being sold overseas as karayuki-san and fighting for monogamy within Japan.

Tamako devoted herself in particular to the founding of an art school for women. The Tokyo School of Fine Arts had been founded in 1887, but it did not admit women. Tamako, who had studied painting with Asai Chu and joined the White Horse Society of Western-style painters, wanted a place where women and girls could study art seriously. With support from the sculptor Fujita Bunzo among others, she founded the Private Women’s School of Fine Arts (now Joshibi University of Art and Design) in Tokyo in 1900, “to empower the self-reliance of women through the arts, improve the social status of women, and produce women teachers in the arts.” Fujita, who had studied sculpture with the Italian Vincenzo Ragusa (husband of Tama Ragusa), became the first principal.

With trouble finding students and money alike, Tamako’s health began to suffer. She went to Sato Shizu, wife of Dr. Sato of Juntendo Hospital (and daughter of the senior Dr. Sato, who had treated Ogino Ginko), herself from a lineage of doctors and artists drawing on rangaku Dutch traditions of both arts. Shizu persuaded her husband to help out, and the school stabilized.

Tamako died not long after, in 1903, at the age of forty-seven. Shizu became principal of the art school in her stead. Among the school’s eventual alumnae were the artists Kataoka Tamako, Migishi Setsuko, Maruki Toshi, Hori Fumiko, Tomiyama Taeko, Sano Nui, and Matsui Fuyuko, as well as the actress Okada Yoshiko.

Sources
Ishii
https://awarewomenartists.com/en/magazine/le-style-occidental-au-japon-yoga-et-les-peintres-japonaises-entre-louverture-du-japon-en-1868-et-la-deuxieme-guerre-mondiale/ (English) essay
…and the ridiculous amount of links in the article, good grief. I think I got carried away.
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[personal profile] nnozomi
Ogino Ginko was born in 1851 in present-day Saitama Prefecture, the daughter of a prosperous farmer: a small, tanned, clever child with beautiful eyes and a strong will. At eighteen [or sixteen] she married Inamura Kan’ichiro, headman of a nearby village; their happy (?) marriage ended in divorce (on his part yet) when Ginko discovered that he had infected her with gonorrhea, leaving her unable to bear children. She checked herself into the Juntendo Hospital in Tokyo for treatment, finding it humiliating that the doctors attending to her private parts were all men. Her own discomfort and that of the other women patients there marked the beginning of her determination, furthered by the atmosphere of novelty surrounding the 1868 Meiji Reformation, to become a doctor herself.

In better health after a year of treatment, she returned home and began to study traditional Chinese medicine, returning to Tokyo for serious study in 1873 at age 23 (among the people she consulted for advice at this point was the artist Okuhara Seiko, an acquaintance of her ex-husband’s family). She first apprenticed herself to the traditional physician and scholar Inoue Yorikuni; although she wore men’s clothing for her lessons, it was not long before the recently widowed Inoue made a pass at her, which ended her apprenticeship. [Some texts do not mention this disagreeable episode at all, while at least one site describes her as Inoue’s second wife.] She fled to Kofu in Yamanashi Prefecture to teach at Naito Masuko’s school for small girls. In 1875 she returned to Tokyo and entered the newly established Tokyo Women’s Normal School (later Ochanomizu Women’s University), and after graduating at the top of her class was able to enter the Kojuin Medical School, which normally did not admit women, through an introduction from various eminent figures, including Shimoda Utako.

However, no matter how many times she submitted her application for the exam required to open a practice, it was rejected: “such a thing is without precedent.” Around this time she wrote a miserable article in Jogaku Zasshi, a magazine for women’s edification: “…The weather is cold, frost smothers the roof tiles, but who will listen to me protest that my dress is too thin?” and other poetic images expressing her frustration in the language of the highly educated. She even considered studying overseas, but hesitated because of the huge expenses involved.

At length Ginko discovered the Ryonogige, an 8th-century book of imperial edicts which mentioned women doctors, seven clever girls from good families who studied to serve the Imperial Family as physicians. This tradition stood up in her favor, but it was not until September 1884 that Ginko’s efforts finally opened the examination to women; she took the exam the following year and passed with flying colors, becoming at age 35 the first official woman doctor in modern Japan. She opened a clinic in central Tokyo, which became so popular it outgrew its first premises, and also served as physician and instructor at the Meiji Girls’ School under Iwamoto Yoshiharu.

From an interview with the novelist Shimizu Shikin at this time, sometime in the late 1880s: “When I first opened my clinic, there were absolutely no women doctors, so with other colleagues and when making house calls, I felt as if I were being tested every time. I still get curious looks from maids and so on during house calls. … It’s in gynecology and pediatrics that women doctors are most needed. … [Is being a doctor a suitable job for a woman?] Well, I’m single so I have no household issues, but it must be difficult for a woman doctor with a husband. She has to go out in the middle of the night if a patient summons her, and when her husband comes home wanting his wife’s comfort, she may be seeing to an emergency patient. If there’s an epidemic, she has to leave her tired husband and her children both and go out to do her work.”

In 1890, having begun to attend a nearby church, she met and fell in love with the twenty-six-year-old seminary student Shikata Yukiyoshi, a Christian activist with whose ideals she could empathize (she had also worked with the Japan Christian Women’s Association for Reforming Customs (WCTU), led by Yajima Kajiko, in its anti-prostitution activities). They married and moved to Hokkaido to “start a new utopia,” calling it Immanuel Village. Real life did not cooperate, however; the shortage of patients in their small town kept them poor, and after some time, as Shikata wanted to return to school, they considered separation.

He died in 1905. Ginko returned to Tokyo and reopened her clinic in 1909, living with her widowed older sister and dying of a stroke in 1913 at age 63.

Sources
Nakae, Mori 1996, Shimamoto
https://www.pastmedicalhistory.co.uk/ogino-ginko-japans-first-female-doctor/ (English) Decent summary with a nice color picture of the young Ginko
https://www.town.setana.lg.jp/ogino/ (Japanese) Detailed information on the site of the town where Ginko lived in Hokkaido
https://www.pref.saitama.lg.jp/documents/190553/ginkomanga2.pdf (Japanese) Adorable manga biography
Note: The English Wikipedia entry on Ginko is remarkably garbled and unreliable, including the line “Afterward, she entered Tokyo Women’s Normal School (present-day Ochanomizu University), which was at that time a private medical academy with an all-male student body.” Do these people think?
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[personal profile] nnozomi
Niijima Yae was born in 1845 in Aizu, present-day Fukushima Prefecture a little north of Tokyo. Her father Yamamoto Gonpachi was a gunnery instructor, and they were a gun-savvy family; Yae learned to handle a rifle in her teens from her older brother Kakuma and became an instructor herself. In 1865, she married a friend of her brother’s, Kawasaki Shonosuke. The following year, full-scale warfare broke out in Aizu as the Boshin War flared between the Imperialist army and the shogunate-loyal forces. Yae took part in the defense against the Imperialists of Aizu-Wakamatsu Castle, fighting with the men: she cut her hair short, wore her late younger brother’s clothes, carried a sword in her belt and a repeating rifle over her shoulder, shot for herself and directed the cannoneers as well. (She is said to have shot Oyama Iwao, later Oyama Sutematsu’s husband, and seriously wounded him.) They called her “the Jeanne d’Arc of Aizu” or the ” Tomoe Gozen of Aizu.” Having expected to kill herself upon their defeat, she was spared when it turned out she was a woman.

After the war, she left her husband and went to Kyoto to track down her brother Kakuma. There, while working as a teacher in a girls’ school, she met Niijima Jo (otherwise known as Joseph Hardy Neesima), who had just returned from ten years in the United States. Eager to see Western culture for himself, he had snuck through the bakumatsu government’s closed borders to travel illegally. He had studied at Amherst among elsewhere, becoming a Christian and returning to Japan in 1874. He met Yamamoto Kakuma while working to establish the Christian-centered Doshisha English School (now Doshisha University) in Kyoto. Of Kakuma’s sister Yae, he wrote to Mrs. Hardy, among his American benefactors, “She is by no means beautiful, but she lives a handsome life” [back-translated as I can’t find the English original text].

Yae and Niijima became engaged almost immediately and married in January 1876, after Yae’s baptism; he felt that she met his requirements for “a wife who thinks for herself rather than simply obeying her husband.” Their relatively equal marriage drew criticism based on the conventional mores of the time (including from the reliably anti-feminist Tokutomi Soho, who relates that he retracted his criticism and became her supportive adviser after her husband’s death; citation, as they say, needed). They also lived in Western style, with a bed in the bedroom; the lady missionaries taught Yae to cook cabbage rolls, omelets, steak, and roast beef, as well as cakes and cookies, and she dressed in Western clothes and wore high heels on the street. She also startled the people of Kyoto by riding around on a bicycle. Working with the missionary Alice Starkweather, she helped to found the Doshisha Girls’ School (now Doshisha Women’s College of Liberal Arts) as a branch of the English School, and taught etiquette there (her mother Saku, who had accompanied her to Kyoto along with Kakuma’s daughter Miné, served as a dorm mother).

After Niijima died, in 1890, Yae joined the Japan Red Cross as a nursing volunteer, working in army hospitals as a nursing instructor during the Russo-Japanese and First Sino-Japanese Wars and earning the new nickname of “Japan’s Nightingale.” She also campaigned for better treatment for nurses. Her last years were devoted to the tea ceremony, and she died in 1932 at the age of 88.

Sources
Nakae
https://unseen-japan.com/yamamoto-yae/ English article, with some direct quotations
https://www.yae-mottoshiritai.jp/ Japanese, based around Yae’s hometown, with numerous pictures
https://www.doshisha.ac.jp/information/neesima/yae/index.html Japanese, on the Doshisha site, with a detailed chronology
nnozomi: (pic#16721026)
[personal profile] nnozomi
Yajima Kajiko was born in 1833, the sixth daughter of the mayor of her village, in what is now Mashiki Town, Kumamoto. As the latest of a long string of girls, no one got around to naming her until her oldest sister selected “Katsu.” She early on acquired vicarious experience of the world through her sisters, including Tsuseko, who was married to the much older Confucianist Yokoi Shonan as a second wife (or, for all intents and purposes, a concubine) and treated badly, as well as Hisako, who was temporarily divorced from her husband for bearing him only girls, taken back only when her son Iichiro (later to be the writer Tokutomi Soho) was born.

Katsu married Yokoi’s disciple, the samurai Hayashi Shichiro, when she was twenty-six. Handsome but a drunkard, he had two or possibly three children already, to which she added a son and two daughters. Ten years later, tired of his bad behavior, she left him and returned to her family home. (Accounts of what she did with her children differ; she may have left them with him, she may have taken them with her, she may have taken only the youngest daughter. Her son is said to have invited her to come and live with him in Tokyo many years later.) When he sent a messenger to demand her return, she cut off her hair at the roots and sent it to him as her response.

In 1872, four years later, she went up to Tokyo alone to see her oldest brother through an illness. On the way there, aged 40, she changed her name from Katsuko to the much more unusual Kajiko (“rudder”), inspired by the way little rudders could move big ships. After her brother’s recovery, she qualified as a schoolteacher and began teaching at Shiba Sakuragawa Elementary School. At some point during this time she had a child in secret with Suzuki Yosuke, a married man who was either her brother’s secretary or her eye doctor (accounts differ). Her new daughter Taeko was sent to live with a farming family and much later “adopted” back into Kajiko’s household (shades of Dorothy L. Sayers).

In 1878 she became a teacher at Shin-Sakae Girls’ School, a Presbyterian mission school under the auspices of the well-named missionary Mrs. Mary [or Maria] True, where she was famous for smoking a pipe in her office. A younger, Christian teacher said “Oh, smoking is bad, Mrs. Yajima,” to which Kajiko replied “For you young people, yes. Not for me.” In 1880 she became principal at Sakurai Girls’ School, founded by the young educationalist Sakurai Chika, remaining in that position through the merger of the two schools to form the Presbyterian Girls’ School in 1896. One of her students at Sakurai Girls, a rude young lady called Yamada Tsuneko or O-Tsun-chan to her friends, was not pleased when the youthful Chika was replaced by dour middle-aged Kajiko. “My dear, let us be good friends,” Kajiko coaxed. “Not interested, you’re not pretty like Mrs. Sakurai,” Tsuneko retorted. To be addressed here much later according to her birth year, she was later to marry Edward Gauntlett (the first official marriage of a Japanese woman and a Westerner, not counting instances like Cho-Cho San’s), become a teacher at her alma mater, and serve there and elsewhere as Kajiko’s right hand.

Kajiko herself eventually became a Christian as well (the records do not tell us whether she quit smoking). Her schools had no codified rules: “You have the Bible, so govern yourselves,” she told her students. Influenced by Mary Greenleaf Leavitt’s lectures, in 1886 she formed the first Japanese branch of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union (the 東京夫人矯風会 or Tokyo Women’s Association for Reforming Customs) and became its chair. Their principles were (and remain, as the Japan Christian Women’s Organization) against drinking, smoking, and prostitution, and in favor of women’s rights, monogamy, gender equality, and peace. She met Frances Willard of the WCTU in Japan the following year, and continued working in this field throughout her life, attending the Boston WCTU Conference in 1906 and the London conference in 1920; in 1921, aged 89, she visited Manchuria and Korea and went to Washington, DC to present President Warren Harding with a “300-Foot Peace Plan” signed by Japanese women. Tsuneko Gauntlett accompanied her, did her hair and makeup, and taught her a speech in English to give as they lay in their bunk beds on the boat. Kajiko died in Tokyo at the age of 93.

Her sister Hisako’s younger son, the writer Tokutomi Roka, felt the need to complain in print after her death about Kajiko’s secrecy regarding her children (three from her marriage in Kumamoto, one in Tokyo), perhaps peeved that in life she had told him flatly “You have no way to understand how I feel.”

Sources
Mori 1996, Nakae, Shimamoto, Tanaka
https://www.ndl.go.jp/portrait/e/datas/6039/ (various photos of Kajiko)

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Histories of women in and around Japan, 1868-1945

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Icon is Uemura Shoen's "Self-Portrait at Age 16," 1891

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